


Grief Unheralded

by LadyBrooke



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24399262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: Gil-galad was not happy that news of Maedhros’ death was sent first to Celebrimbor, by way of an anonymous note.Celebrimbor was equally determined that the King not be seen as being too partial to a Fëanorian.Gil-galad was also not the type to be discouraged from his plans.
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Ereinion Gil-galad
Comments: 14
Kudos: 67
Collections: Hurt Comfort Exchange 2020





	Grief Unheralded

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raiyana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/gifts).



“My uncle is dead,” Celebrimbor said, the letter in his hands floating to the floor as Celebrimbor’s shaking hands released it. “Maedhros, he-.”

Gil-galad stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind him with muttered apologies to the courtiers that he only half meant. As soon as it was shut, he rushed forward, placing an arm around Celebrimbor even as Celebrimbor broke into sobs.

The letter would have answers, he thought, and still made no move to retrieve it as Celebrimbor began to mutter in the Quenya of his childhood. The type of Quenya Gil-galad only half understood on the best of days, and yet now understood all too well that Celebrimbor was begging for Maedhros to find healing and return even as he knew it was impossible.

He imagined it was similar to what Fëanor had begged as a child about his mother, and then suppressed that thought as deep in his mind as he could. Celebrimbor would not go down that path.

“Do you wish me to read the letter?” he asked a moment later, when Celebrimbor’s mutters turned slightly softer.

Celebrimbor hesitated a moment.

“I know of your Uncle’s past deeds and have not yet judged him, I shall not judge him for whatever has led to his death.”

Something with the Silmaril that had been stolen from Eonwë’s camp, doubtless. It was not as though Maedhros could have done much worse than what he had already done.

Celebrimbor finally nodded.

Gil-galad picked the letter off the floor, holding it in one hand as he continued to hug Celebrimbor with his other arm.

The letter, though hardly deserving of such a term, was unsigned. That was likely good for the writer of the letter, because Gil-galad’s anger rose as he read it.

_Your uncle is dead. It would have been better if he had been left to die on that cliff, but now he has burnt himself in lava, and I suppose that is well enough._

“Do you know who sent this?” He wanted to tell Celebrimbor that such had not occurred, but he could remember the words Elrond and Elros had spoken upon their arrival. Maedhros had seemed strange and sad in those stories, and with the Oath as fulfilled as it could be - well, Celebrimbor was not the first he had comforted in the aftermath of such, only the closest.

“Even if I did know, I would not tell you,” Celebrimbor said.

Gil-galad ground his teeth together, considering what he could say. “I would not harm him or her.”

“You would send messages that the King is disappointed by such, and you cannot.” Celebrimbor shook his head. “I am used to hearing such thoughts about my Uncles, and I cannot blame them for those. It was just the shock of learning about his death so suddenly.” Celebrimbor looked at the letter again.

Gil-galad placed it carefully on the table. “Their thoughts about your Uncles are understandable, however, you are a member of my court and under my protection. It would not be strange for the King to come to the defense of one of his closest allies, or to clarify the expectations for alerting others of a death.”

“Nay, Gil-galad. Though you should check on Elrond, and make sure he and Elros have not received similar letters.” Celebrimbor looked up, lips twisting into a smile that was as fake as the jewels he had spotted at a meeting earlier that day, saving them from a false deal. “I will be fine.”

“Elrond and Elros are with Círdan, and few would be capable of tricking Círdan into allowing the delivery of such a letter, and he will deal with such if they have. I will stay with you.”

Celebrimbor smiled again, smaller this time but more honest. “Thank you.”

There was a noise from the corridor. Gil-galad glanced briefly at the door and decided to ignore it, on the basis that it was not his secretary, chief advisor, or Círdan knocking.

“If you need to leave,” Celebrimbor began again.

“Nay. If you will not tell me who sent such a letter, you will at least not remove me from a room in my own city as I try to comfort you.” Gil-galad lifted a brow. “Especially not when you have so often in the past served as my source of solace.”

“I,” Celebrimbor said, “am older, and was entrusted with taking you to Círdan by your father. And those of us that still live must take care of one another.”

“And so, I am only doing what you say we must.” He would have felt bad - Celebrimbor would have been far more precise if he was not so distraught - but finally making Celebrimbor accept care was a victory he could not hope to achieve through anything except trickery.

“You are too similar to Great-Grandfather.” Celebrimbor laughed briefly, before quieting. “I miss him, and I shall not see him again unless I die.”

“Which you shall not do,” Gil-galad said immediately. “I forbid it.”

“My line is cursed, Gil-galad, you know that. Far more than even your own lineage, for all that the Doom lies upon us both.” Celebrimbor shrugged. “Not that I intend to seek out Námo’s care, but neither do I think I can stave off his embrace forever.”

That was true, and weariness pressed down upon Gil-galad. Still, he forced himself to search for some hope. “Galadriel yet lives, and among your uncles, so does Maglor. If they can survive such ills as this, so may we.”

“Perhaps,” Celebrimbor said. Then he laughed again, louder than the first. “Perhaps we shall live to see the Valar bend, and perhaps we shall at least see Fingolfin and Finarfin again in life, or the rest of their children save Galadriel. Who can say, when we have already lived through the breaking of the world once?”

Gil-galad felt a chill run down his spine, though Celebrimbor’s words should have been a comfort. Still, at least he had taken some comfort from it. “Perhaps we shall, though I am not sure why you would wish so many Kings upon me. We would have to listen to the court debate the proper holder of the crown again.”

Celebrimbor laughed. “Sometimes I forget how few debates like that you have lived through. If only you had lived through the final days of Finwë’s court or the earliest days of Fingolfin’s, you would know that debate was nothing. Still, I would not subject you to such, so let us say that if we see a day when the crown grows heavy and you wish to lay it down, there shall be another waiting to take such a burden.”

“You used to be better at comfort, but I shall not hold it against you this once,” Gil-galad said. “Come, I am sure dinner is ready in my study. We shall eat, and you may tell me more of the Uncle you miss, if you wish, or we can content ourselves with other subjects.”

He did not allow Celebrimbor a chance to resist, or to alert those in the corridor that they were coming. Throwing the door open, he dragged Celebrimbor along behind him with a hold on his hand, until they reached the study and closed themselves in there again to talk of lost relatives and the past.


End file.
